The Secret Crown

by Chris Kuzneski

  Jones cursed under his breath. He was severely out gunned, and he knew it. Even if he killed their leader, the other three would mow him down in less than a second. Things would have been different if he had been alone. He would have bolted back inside the grotto in the hope of losing the goons in the darkness, but he couldn’t risk it with Heidi and Ulster standing behind him. Without instructions, they wouldn’t know what to do or where to go. So Jones decided to stand his ground as long as possible, hoping to give Payne a chance to hide them inside.

  To buy some time, Jones replied in Spanish. ‘No hablo Inglés.’

  Unfortunately, Schultz spoke Español a lot better than Jones did. ‘¡Levante sus manos! ¡Deje su arma!’

  Jones grimaced. His tactic had backfired. So he decided to switch to Russian. He had learned some on a recent trip to Saint Petersburg. ‘.’

  Schultz wasn’t stupid. He had been willing to give Jones the benefit of the doubt with Spanish, but he knew damn well Jones wasn’t Russian. ‘Stop stalling. I know you and your friends can speak English. Your pilot told us that and more.’

  Jones glanced over Schultz’s shoulder and spotted Baptiste in the back of the golf cart. His hands were tied, and his face was bloodied. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want you to raise your hands and drop your gun.’

  To buy more time, Jones decided to press his luck. ‘Are you sure about that? Because if I raise my hands first, I’m liable to drop my gun on my head. And between you and me, scalp wounds are rather messy.’

  Schultz smiled, then calmly pulled his trigger. A silenced round whizzed past Jones’ ear and burrowed into the rocky mound behind him. ‘So are bullet holes.’

  Jones quickly dropped his gun. ‘Good point.’

  ‘Now take three steps forward, then kneel.’

  ‘Big steps or baby steps?’

  Schultz didn’t answer. He simply readjusted his aim. His new target was a spot between Jones’s eyes. From close range, it would be tough to miss. With Schultz’s patience wearing thin, Jones decided to follow his orders. As things stood, he had already bought Payne more than enough time to hide their friends in the grotto and to plan an attack.

  If the goons went inside, Payne would kill them.

  If they didn’t, Payne would escape through the tunnel.

  Either way, Jones had done his duty.

  The rest would be up to Payne.

  68

  Payne refused to take any chances with Heidi and Ulster. Instead of stashing them in the darkness of the grotto, he ordered them to hide in the secret tunnel. He knew the concrete would protect them from gun fire, and in a worst-case scenario, they could exit through the fake tree stump and escape through the castle grounds. Surprisingly, neither of them complained. They jumped in the water and swam towards the Grotta Azzurra where they would enter the stalagmite.

  Meanwhile, Payne eyed his surroundings and planned his assault. Unless the goons had recently toured the Linderhof, he knew he had the tactical advantage inside the grotto. Thanks to the man-made cavern and the special effects, it would be like fighting a war in an amusement park. To tilt the terrain in his favour, he hustled to the control panel and turned on the waterfall. Within seconds, water gushed from its spout and splashed into the lake. Next he turned on the wave machine and turned off the underwater lights. Suddenly the dark water resembled an angry sea, its waves crashing against Ludwig’s boat and the nearby path.

  Payne smiled at the sight. Back in the Special Forces, he had spent many nights in similar conditions, sneaking onto foreign shores and taking out targets. He had enjoyed it then, and he would enjoy it now. About the only thing missing was Jones by his side. And yet, somehow Payne knew that his best friend was fine and that they were still working in unison.

  Jones would lure them in, and Payne would take them out.

  Just like old times.

  Near the bottom of the control panel, Payne spotted a large dial that looked like the volume control on a stereo. Hoping to limit his opponent’s communication, Payne turned the knob. Instantly the soaring vocals of Richard Wagner’s Tannhäuser, one of Ludwig’s favourite operas, filled the grotto. Payne grinned and cranked the volume even louder. In a confined space, the music and the darkness would conceal his movement until he was ready to strike.

  Now all he had to do was wait.

  The goons entered the grotto completely unprepared. No flashlights. No maps. No advanced surveillance. They just stormed into the darkness en masse, a cluster of three soldiers on a well-lit path. Apparently they hadn’t been briefed on the shootout in the gorge; otherwise they would have thought long and hard about a frontal assault against a highly skilled soldier.

  Of course, that was the problem with most goons. They weren’t trained to think.

  Payne crouched in the dark lake, allowing his body to rise and fall with the surging tide. He was close enough to the path to be accurate, but far enough away to be unseen – until his muzzle flash lit up the cavern like a lightning bolt. If he’d had more time to work with, he would have picked them off silently, using his bare hands and his blade. Unfortunately, Jones was in immediate danger, so the clock was ticking.

  He was forced to make his move now.

  For Payne, the first shot would be the easiest. He raised his Sig Sauer above the waterline and aimed at the lead goon’s throat. Because of the undulating waves, Payne knew his aim might be affected vertically. If he shot high, he would hit the face. If he shot low, he would hit the chest. If his aim was true, he would hit the jugular. No matter what, the goon would go down. After that, Payne would have to swing his weapon to the right and get off two more shots before the last goon spotted Payne’s position in the water. If that happened, things would get interesting.

  The blaring music masked the blast as Payne pulled his trigger. The bullet caught the lead goon under his chin and killed him instantly. He collapsed on the narrow path, effectively blocking the two men behind him. Payne wasted no time and fired at the second goon. The rising water pushed his aim high, but not high enough for the guy to survive.

  Just like that, there was one goon left.

  His name was Faust, and he was smarter than the others.

  He quickly fired a shot towards Payne’s muzzle flash, then jumped into the dark lake even though he wasn’t a good swimmer. For Faust, it had been a spur of the moment decision, one that helped him survive since the lit path had been a shooting gallery and his team had been the targets. Another moment and he would have been killed like his colleagues.

  In the water, at least he had a chance.

  Three days earlier, Payne had been swimming on the bottom of the Ohio River, blindly looking for a lost bottle opener. Now he was searching for prey in a man-made lake.

  In his mind, this would be far easier.

  With a knife in his hand and his lungs full of air, Payne glided underwater towards the panic-stricken Faust. The lake was deep enough and dark enough to conceal Payne’s approach, so he wasted no time once he spotted the thrashing legs of his target. Attacking from behind, Payne grabbed the back of Faust’s collar and yanked him under the surface of the water. Faust bucked and flailed, trying to break free, but Payne ended the battle with a quick slash of his blade. Blood gushed from Faust’s neck as he dropped his gun and tried, in vain, to hold the fluid inside his body. But it wasn’t to be. Within seconds, the life had drained out of him.

  Payne held on until the struggling stopped, then he pushed the corpse aside and swam hard towards the shore. He sprang from the water and landed on the narrow path, not far from the second dead goon. Normally, Payne would have been reluctant to use someone else’s weapon unless his own gun was damaged or out of ammo, but in this case, it made sense strategically. The goon’s Beretta was equipped with a sound suppressor, which would be useful outside the grotto – especially if more men were positioned around the Linderhof grounds. The last thing Payne wanted was to make them aware of his presence. With that in mind, he picked up the
Beretta, fired a test shot into the water, then headed towards the fake boulder.

  While kneeling on the hard ground, Jones could hear the music seeping from the opening behind him. Although he wasn’t familiar with this particular opera, he found himself humming along – partially to calm his nerves and partially because he was bored.

  Based on Schultz’s tactics, it was fairly obvious that he had been ordered to follow the beacon and question the chopper’s occupants before anyone was eliminated. Otherwise, Jones and Baptiste would already be dead, and Schultz would be inside the grotto looking for Payne, Heidi and Ulster. Once Jones thought this out, his attitude changed. If given the opportunity, Jones would still make a move on Schultz, but he wasn’t about to do anything desperate. At least not until Payne had a chance to wipe out the rest of his crew. In the meantime, he would do everything he could to keep his captor distracted.

  Jones stared at Schultz, who was fifteen feet away. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Time to shut up.’

  He acted offended. ‘Damn! Why are you so mean? Have you always been like this? If so, you got in the right line of work. Lots of angry men in the goon business.’

  ‘I’m not a goon.’

  ‘Really? What are you then?’

  ‘I’m a soldier.’

  ‘Me, too. How long have you worked for Mueller?’

  Schultz glanced around. He wasn’t used to chatty prisoners. Normally they were quivering with fear, not trying to make conversation. ‘Two years.’

  ‘Good employer?’

  ‘Not bad.’

  ‘Benefits?’

  Schultz caught himself before he answered. ‘That’s it! No more talking. I know what you’re trying to do.’

  ‘Really? What’s that?’

  ‘You’re trying to distract me.’

  ‘Is it working?’

  ‘Not a chance.’

  During the past few seconds, Jones had noticed the music getting softer. Either someone had turned down the volume, or someone was standing near the fissure blocking the sound as it tried to escape the grotto. If he had to guess, it was probably the latter.

  ‘One last question, then I promise I’ll shut up.’

  Schultz glared at him. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Do you know why we’re here?’

  He sneered. ‘I’ll find out soon enough.’

  Jones smiled, confident Payne was behind him. ‘No, you won’t.’

  A moment later, Payne squeezed the trigger and ended the conversation.

  Jones didn’t even turn around. ‘Took you long enough.’

  ‘Screw you,’ Payne snapped. ‘It was one against three.’

  Jones stood and brushed off his knees. ‘Actually, it was three against three. Or don’t Heidi and Ulster count?’

  ‘In this case, they don’t. I sent them to safety.’

  ‘Then you better go and get them. We need to lift off, asap.’

  ‘Me? What about you? What are you going to do?’

  Jones pointed at the golf cart. ‘I need to check on Baptiste. If he can’t fly, I’m the pilot.’

  ‘Fine! We’ll meet you here in five.’

  Jones suddenly turned serious. ‘By the way, thanks.’

  Payne nodded, then disappeared into the darkness of the grotto.

  69

  Munich, Germany

  Oktoberfest is the world’s largest fair. Held annually in Munich, the sixteen-day festival attracts more than six million visitors a year. The original Oktoberfest took place in 1810 and commemorated the marriage of Princess Therese of Saxe-Hildburghausen and Crown Prince Ludwig, who later became King Ludwig I. (He was the namesake of Ludwig the Second and his paternal grandfather.) The event is held in the Theresienwiese – which translates to Therese’s meadow – an open space of four and a half million square feet that is south-west of the centre of the city. The festival is so important to Munich’s economy that the massive field has its own subway station. During the event, the U-Bahn station handles roughly 20,000 people per hour in each direction.

  Because of security concerns, Payne was thrilled that Hauser & Sons was located on the opposite side of the city, far away from the madness. Baptiste landed the chopper on a corporate helipad six blocks from the store, then took off as soon as his passengers had hustled to safety. Although Jones was convinced that Raskin had handled the beacon problem, Baptiste was instructed to fly around the city to confuse would-be pursuers.

  As a former resident of Munich, Heidi led the way to the store while Payne followed closely behind. Unlike the crowds of foreigners that filled the sidewalks, she knew exactly where she was headed. Energized by the palpable buzz in the city, her pace was so quick at times that Ulster struggled to keep up. Eventually, Payne grabbed her elbow and urged her to slow down – not only for Ulster’s sake, but also for the group’s safety. The further they were spread apart, the tougher it was to keep an eye on everybody.

  Ironically, Heidi wasn’t the least bit excited about their trip to the store. She thought it might result in a small titbit about Ludwig but didn’t think it was worth their time and effort, not at this stage of their search. In fact, the only one who truly believed in the significance of the receipt was Jones. For some reason, he just sensed it was critical and wouldn’t let it rest. In the end, Payne and Ulster were willing to play along in order to shut Jones up.

  Located in a brown brick building on a commercial street, Hauser & Sons had the glossy look of a high-end store. Its name was written in gold calligraphy on an elegant sign above the tinted glass doorway. Display cases, filled with a wide assortment of jewellery, sat behind the shatterproof windows. Lit by overhead lights discreetly hidden from public view, the jewels sparkled like stars in the desert night.

  Heidi wanted to stop for a longer look, but Payne dragged her away from the window and towards the door. For the next few minutes, he needed her to focus on the receipt, not the diamond necklace she had been admiring. Heidi nodded and promised she would be on her best behaviour, but the moment they entered the store, she was distracted by a pair of earrings. Then a tennis bracelet. Then a gold ring. Before he knew it, she was in shopping mode.

  Dressed in a designer suit, Friedrich Hauser watched the action unfold from his desk near the back of the store. Over the decades, he had witnessed a similar scene play out more times than he could possibly remember. The truth was he made his living on the type of excitement that she was displaying. He only hoped the woman (or one of her friends) had the bank account to match her expensive taste. If so, it would be a great afternoon.

  ‘Guten tag!’ he said as he strolled forward.

  Payne waved and said, ‘Hello.’

  Hauser, a man in his mid-sixties, smiled warmly. ‘Ah, you are visiting our city. I should have known. Everyone is a visitor during Oktoberfest. Where are you from?’

  ‘America.’

  ‘That is a long way to come for jewellery. I guess our reputation is growing.’

  Payne laughed and shook his hand. ‘From the looks of things, your reputation is well deserved. You have a beautiful store.’

  Hauser beamed. ‘I thank you – and so do my ancestors.’

  The comment caught everyone’s attention, including Heidi’s. She turned away from the main display case and joined the others.

  ‘You’re the owner?’ Payne asked.

  ‘One of them. My name is Friedrich Hauser.’

  Payne introduced his group. ‘I’m Jon. This is David, Petr and Heidi.’

  Hauser nodded. ‘Nice to meet you. How may I be of service?’

  Payne took a step back. ‘DJ, the floor is yours.’

  Hauser smiled and waited for an explanation.

  Jones took over. ‘We found something from your store, and we were hoping you could give us some additional information about its owner.’

  Hauser arched his eyebrow. ‘Let me guess: you found a ring! People lose them all the time. Thankfully, we keep wonderful records. Can you describe the piece?’
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  Jones shook his head. ‘No, not a ring. We found a document.’

  ‘A document? I don’t understand.’

  Ulster pointed at one of the display cases. ‘May we show you?’

  Hauser nodded and walked to the opposite side of the case while Jones placed the receipt on the freshly cleaned glass. Over the next several seconds, the group watched in silence as Hauser inspected the antique document. Strangely, he seemed to go through a wide range of emotions in a short period of time – confusion, followed by excitement and finally trepidation. Meanwhile, his body went on a similar journey. Gone was the relaxed posture of a moment before, replaced by the rigid stance of a prison guard.

  His eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Where did you get this?’

  Jones answered. ‘We found it in a desk.’

  ‘Whose desk?’

  ‘For the time being, I’d rather not say.’

  Hauser grimaced and returned his attention to the document. It was painfully obvious that he knew what he was looking at, yet something prevented him from admitting it. Payne was tempted to go on the offensive and question him, but before he had a chance, Hauser looked at him directly. ‘May I take this into the back? I’d like to show it to my father.’

  Payne shook his head. ‘Actually, we’d prefer if he came out here and talked to us in person. We’d love to meet him.’

  ‘That will be difficult. He doesn’t move around very well.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, but we go where the receipt goes. If you’d like, we’re more than willing to visit him. Just lead the way.’

  Hauser stared at the document and sighed, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looked like a man who truly didn’t know what he was supposed to do. ‘Wait right here. I’ll see which my father would prefer. In the meantime, can one of you lock the main door?’

  ‘Why?’ Heidi asked.

  ‘Whichever he decides, this matter should be handled in private.’

  Payne nodded. ‘You talk to your father; we’ll get the lock.’

  Hauser went into the back while Heidi took care of the door. Meanwhile, Payne, Jones and Ulster tried to figure out what was going on.